The Winter Trials
by TheFreelancerSeal
Summary: None knew the need for the proceedings about to occur, for they knew his guilt. All that was needed was justice, swift and final, and yet even he deserved this right as a citizen of Crimea.
1. Chapter 1: The Winter Trial

**A/N: **Ok, this may seem like an unusual choice, and yes you read the character right. I had this idea because we have no idea what happens to Ludveck beyond his promise of a trial. I aim to cover that with this, even though I can't stand him.

This story relies heavily on dialouge, so hopefully it doesn't get too confusing. I hope you'll all enjoy it.

P.S. Fixed a few things and changed a few words.

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**Chapter 1: The Winter Trial**

A young scribe dutifully took his place at his small desk in the grand hall of Fort Alpea. From where he sat, the writer could survey all the doings of the court, save for the judges, who sat in their own grand booth alongside his meager desk. The lad sat with the impatience of his age, for he was only fourteen, and it seemed the same mood had fallen over the chamber. Despite his eagerness, the scribe dared not mutter as much as a single world of dissatisfaction. It hardly was the occasion to show such faces, but more than that, he knew that one of the judges, the grandest of them in fact, would surely put him out of the room. Yet, he wondered if he could truly have blame held against him for such a desire, as he was sure that even the ministers likewise desired that the proceedings begin sooner rather than later.

It was a chilling afternoon that day in the winter's early month, and a shiver fell upon the young boy as he sat in the cold silence of the air about the room. He did not know if he was permitted to even rub his hands together to warm them, although he could not resist doing so, if only to prepare his hands for the task ahead of them. It was far too cold for his liking. From where he sat, he thought he could see each breath of those who had gathered here.

The news in the air was, however, hardly cold or quiet. Whisperings of war with the Begnion Empire ran hot among the citizens. The scribe had heard rumors that the imperial army had even crossed over into Crimea only for the queen herself to repel them. It struck the lad as odd that the queen or even Lady Lucia should not attend this solemn affair. What better place was there to observe justice and even due vengeance for what was done to them?

Tiring of the lack of activity, the scribe looked about the room at the two stands at either side. They were packed full as though they were the storehouses of the rich, though not with the fruits of the field or the vines, but with fruit of the country. Common citizens filled both stands, and the scribe spotted many faces he knew, for they lived near the fort as did he. Others, he wondered from where they had come; had they come even from the streets of Melior? But from wherever they had come, the scribe had little doubt as to the reason.

He knew that none of them had any interest in what was to come as people of the kingdom. No, instead they had come as spectators, only eager to watch as though the coming trial served as a mere diversion of the daily repetitions that they had grown so accustomed to. By the look of their occasional jostling, they, too, hoped that this event would begin soon, and the scribe could hardly blame them. Though he was here by appointment, he found this day little more than an entertaining occurrence.

At length, he allowed his eyes fell to the empty seat that stood small before the imposing booth from which justice was to be dispensed. He wondered if the man doomed to sit in that seat would find himself made small before the eyes of that booth, although he highly doubted it. He began again waiting with great anticipation for that chair to fill. Oh, when would this begin? His hand wrestled to take hold of the pen entrusted to it, and the pen longed for the company of the ink. When would it begin?

"Bring in the accused!" the chief of the judges roared with a voice that brought all eyes and ears to the front of the room. At once, the scribe set his pen to the page for the exchange certain to ensue.

The doors of the chamber groaned against the keepers, for they wished not to swing upon their hinges, as though they were not eager for the proceedings to begin. Yet bound by duty, as many were, they complied. The scribe looked towards the empty doorway, leaning forward as much as he was able, in order to catch a glimpse of him who was to sit in that fateful place. Moments later, the rattling of irons sounded and resounded in the chamber as two soldiers entered with their fettered charge.

The scribe had not seen Ludveck until this moment, but the former duke looked very much as the lad had imagined him. His face was common, for his hair had grown slightly and his chin was dotted with brown stubble, likely from his months in the prisons, yet his eyes bore a gleam of pride that the scribe had often heard said of him. A heavy iron chain bound his wrists, and this was his only binding. He appeared indifferent to the men who dragged him to the chair and roughly sat him down in it.

"This shouldn't take long," one of the guards said in poor humor as he joined his fellow behind and on either side of the chair.

"Silence," the judge roared again, and indeed silence fell over the room. The scribe hastily wrote upon his page, waiting for the trial to continue. At last, the judge spoke again, "Ludveck of Felirae, you stand accused of high treason, sedition, inciting rebellion against your lawful queen, dishonorable conduct against your station, unlawful conduct against the laws of Crimea, and the abduction and attempted murder of a lady of the court. To each of these charges, how do you answer?"

"My, my, the queen managed to write so few crimes with so many words," the duke said in spiteful jest. A series of low mutterings came from the judge's booth. The scribe could only snicker lightly to himself at the ease in which he had angered the court. At length the words died down and the minister spoke again.

"You will mind your place, for you are no longer in a place of honor. I ask you again, how do you answer these charges made against you?"

"Does it matter how I answer?" Ludveck replied as if the proceedings were a mere annoyance. "We all know the truth behind each of the charges, and I know well enough what the verdict is; I'm sure the queen has already instructed you in how to rule in this matter."

"That is not at all relevant; now, answer the question."

"I will not because that would make it far too easy for you."

"Then do you admit to committing any one of these crimes?"

"Did I say that? I don't believe I did; but why not hear it from the queen's lips instead? She can tell you all that you wish to know."

"Her Majesty is attending to the war; her presence here is not required." The rustling of paper met the scribe's ears, and he looked up to see one of the guards taking a sheet of parchment and handing it to the prisoner. "This is a solemn oath that states that you will answer any questions with the utmost truth. The court orders you to sign it." The scribe watched as Ludveck looked with false concentration at the page and let it drop from his hand.

"I have a better proposal for you," the former-duke stated. "In the place of this pointless charade, I move for a trial by combat. Fetch for yourselves a champion, and I will fight him to the death. If he kills me, you may find me guilty then. If I prevail, then declare me innocent. What say you to that?"

Another muttering fell from the judges' booth. The scribe hoped to hear what was spoken, yet he could not. He wondered how one man could bring his testers to anger in the span of such a short time before his trial had even commenced. The lad wondered what thing they might do upon him for such a motion, and he was sure the people assembled thought the same. At length, the murmuring ceased, and the minister spoke again.

"We had thought you would make such a request of us, and we will not permit it. The charges made against you have deprived you of your rights as a nobleman. Therefore, we shall not honor such a motion. Now, sign the oath and be quick about it."

"Is it of any concern to me if I sign this or not? How do you know I will even keep to it? I can still lie if it suits me, and my name on a piece of paper is of no consequence, as you put it. Still, I suppose I will play this idiotic game. Fetch me a quill."

The boy hurried to finish the last of the words and then ceded his pen to the approaching guard. He scowled as the soldier put it in the hands of the accused who quickly penned his mired name upon the page. He knew not why he held the act in contempt; perhaps it was that he, like the man on trial, found the affair a waste of time.

He had seen the aftermath of the battle with his own eyes. He had watched the men of Felirae as they dragged Lady Lucia to the scaffold and as she was lifted off her feet at their hands. He wondered if there was any need for this royal show at all. Yet he could say nothing of it. When, at length, he held his pen again, the questioning began.

"What is your name?" the chief judge asked.

"Don't you know my name by now?" the former duke replied rather smugly.

"Answer the question, and do not mock us."

"My name is Ludveck," he answered with unveiled irritation at the question.

"What is your station?"

"I am the sixth duke of the territory of Felirae."

"As such, you have great influence over the people in your domain, do you not?"

"Don't all the nobles of the realm have the same influence? I merely see fit to use it."

"In what way do you use the influence of your post?"

"I can convince the people that I seek the best for them. At times, I can also influence the royal house."

"How have you done so?"

"I was an adviser to King Ramon before the Mad King's War, and, for a time, to our current queen after it."

"Did you declare your loyalty to Her Majesty at the end of the Mad King's War?"

"Of course I did. I bowed to her just as my fellow nobles and the common rabble did," said the accused man, looking about with disfavor at all those who gathered around him.

"Was that the full extent of your services to her?" the questioner asked.

"It was not, and you may ask any of my soldiers, if they happen to still be alive. I supplied men to the queen's cause when we were under Daein occupation. I even fought alongside the army of Crimea."

Again, a flurry of indiscernible words came from the mouths of the judges as the flakes of winter upon the windows. The scribe knew not what they whispered among themselves. Perhaps, they considered the statement of the charged. Perhaps they only proposed further questions among themselves. Perhaps they discussed the truth of those words glaring up at the scribe from his page, for they did sound as words of loyalty. Perhaps, they merely sought to amuse themselves in some way, though it was hardly likely. Whatever the reason, the scribe wished only for the proceedings to continue, if only to prevent a delay of the inevitable.

"So, you consider yourself a loyal citizen of Crimea, do you?" the chief judge said at length.

"I do," Ludveck replied. "I would gladly ensure the security of the kingdom by any means necessary."

"Would you even commit treason for...security, as you put it?"

"If I answer that, then I may as well put a noose around my neck here and now, and, what's more, you know it. I must say the queen is going to great lengths to see me dead. Perhaps she is more ruthless than I gave her credit for."

"Do you believe that one must be ruthless in order to properly rule a country?"

"I do," the accused answered without a single hesitation. "One must not be afraid to demonstrate strength in order to show both their subjects and the other nations that one is not weak. Has the queen done this?"

"So, you consider Queen Elincia a weak woman?"

"Is that a crime? Have you never once thought that she was weak in her conduct as queen?"

"My loyalty to Her Majesty is not on trial; yours is. Now, do you consider the queen weak?"

"If I do, then that is not a crime. Every noble in the whole of the kingdom would be here if it were, including at least two of you. Do you not remember that you had confided in me your own sentiments towards Elincia's reign?" A low laugh arose from the stands as the people turned to one another, some even discreetly pointing towards the head of the court. The scribe could only wonder which of the judges were the objects of the common mockery. The thundering of the chief judge brought the spectators to silence as though they were children having heard the booms of a storm.

"Order," he shouted. "If you dare speak such insolence again, I shall have your mouth bound. For the third time, Ludveck of Felirae, I ask you, do you consider the queen weak?"

"Will you take it as a confession? We all know the outcome of this. But let me ask you a question; has the queen given you the power to torture me for answers?"

"She did not say." Ludveck reclined as much as the chair would permit him, and the scribe noted a rather haughty smile forming from his lips.

"Then, yes, I do consider her weak. I have thought her weak since she threw away the rule over Daein. A strong queen would do whatever was necessary. She did not, and she continues to do the same, and we will pay the price for it."

At his words, what fleeting amusement the people found in this war of wit and word faded as a great rage filled the observers' eyes. The scribe noticed several standing to their feet to shout hated words at the duke. Even at the command of the judges, the people would not remain silent. At length, the loud voices did subside, and the questioning continued.

"Since you consider Her Majesty a weak ruler, who do you suppose should sit on the throne?"

"It makes me little difference who wears the crown. Elincia may wear it, but she should prove that she is worthy to have it sit on her head."

"Do you count her worthy?"

"Haven't we done this before? No, I do not."

"On what basis do you consider your queen unworthy of her crown?"

"She practically would have had the armies of Daein on her doorstep if she thought it would bring peace. Does a true ruler show weakness to an enemy? Did you not think it unwise for her to acknowledge the new king of Daein?"

"Acknowledging the sovereignty of an independent country does not make one weak."

"Does Begnion recognize our sovereignty? Even from my cell, I see and hear things. I am not a blind man, nor am I deaf. They take no hesitation to show their strength, and Daein did not either. Would you rather have us bowing to the knee of the empire or at the whim of our former occupiers. Would you rather have us subject to foreigners as we once were? Should we not have a worthy ruler to protect our borders and show our sovereignty?"

"So you admit to treason then? Or do you mean that you did not consider yourself worthy of the crown?"

"How many times must I say it? I hardly see how I am a traitor for merely speaking my mind, especially when the fate of Crimea is at stake. Will you try the other nobles for speaking poorly of Elincia? As for your other question, perhaps you see how weak your queen's rule really is."

For a time, silence fell over the chamber. The scribe could not see the faces of the panel for which he wrote, but he could imagine that each man looked to the other, quietly asking questions of his peers. When no words were still given, the scribe looked out the window at the gray clouds heavily pressing against the glass, as if they themselves wished to observe or at the very least offer their own cold words to the cold room. At last, the interrogator spoke again.

"The afternoon wanes, and we grow tired of this circle of words. Therefore, we shall convene again in the morning in order to determine the validity of the charges made against you, although we seem to have determined much. Guards, take the prisoner back to his cell!"

The scribe watched as the guards took hold of the prisoner, partially led, and partially dragged, him from the room. He marveled at the smile upon the face of the duke; the same wickedly triumphant and proud smile he wore only moments ago.

"You men are cowards," shouted he as he was taken away. "You could end this pointless case here and now. You have your verdict and your sentence, and you delay them. If that is not cowardice, then I do not know the meaning of the word." Then the door was shut.

The commoners gathered likewise left to return to their own homes or to any inn that would lodge them, for the scribe was certain that they would not fail to attend. The lad was likewise glad to rest his hand, and so he rose to return to his own chamber in order to do so and to fill his empty belly. As he left the chamber, he looked behind him to spot the judges still gathered in their booth in secret deliberation. When he laid himself down for the night, the scribe did also wonder as Ludveck did. Why did they delay when his guilt was quite apparent?

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**A/N:** Updates on this will likely be slow, so don't expect to see this on the front page all that often. I'll try to update fast, but it's not high on my list. I hope you'll understand.

A big shout out goes to HaveAHeart0301 who was my beta for this story. I couldn't do it without you.

And of course an equally big shout goes to the readers. I wouldn't be anything without your support.


	2. Chapter 2: Right or Wrong

**A/N:** I bet you were wondering if I would ever update this since I published it. Well, surprise, surprise, I finally decided it was time to return to my Middle Age courtroom drama. Ok, maybe it's not very dramatic, but two out of three terms isn't bad. In between _The Twin Blades_, I thought I could throw this together, so here we go again.

I hope you like it. Enjoy

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**Chapter 2: Right or Wrong**

When the appointed hour came, the scribe again took his place beside the judges' booth. He was glad of the timing of the second day of the trial, for it had given him time to take the morning meal. He sat at his table as he had done the previous day, and he idly waved his dry quill about. He watched the feather swaying with the movements of his hand as the chamber awaited the coming of Ludveck. He sat in quiet, but also impatient, anticipation of the proceedings that would soon occur.

Again, he looked upon the citizens gathered in their seats. The scribe noted the faces, some old and some that were very much new. When he had awoken that morning, he had heard talk among the walls of the fort that word had spread from among the nearby villages to others some short distance away and that many more had come into Alpea's gates to watch. At first, he had not believed it, and yet as he watched the people discreetly jostling one another, he began to think it was indeed true.

He wondered if they thought and hoped as he did, or at least those who had previously attended. He found himself wishing that this would be the day that justice would be given against the man who showed no penitence, no remorse, and no regret for the deeds he had done. To say that he found himself hating the former nobleman would not be far from the truth, for many now did hate the name of Ludveck, and many more would take pleasure in seeing judgment brought upon him.

Though he was not alone in his contempt for the accused man, the scribe did also wonder if he was right to hold him in such low regard. As he recalled the words that he had penned from the day before, he found himself wondering if, perhaps, the duke had spoken well.

Had Elincia ruled with a foolish heart, then few would dispute the need for a new monarch. Had the queen been a tyrant, then few would think it wrong to remove her. Had any king or queen dealt wrongly with the people, then many would no doubt have done the same as Ludveck. Though he was merely a lad, the scribe understood these matters.

Yet it did not matter. It did not matter whether he had acted rightly or wrongly. He had raised arms against his queen, and he had failed. Now, all that remained was to judge him. It was right that he should be given both verdict and sentence quickly, the scribe reasoned. And so, he awaited the commencement of the trial, for he was certain that the queen's ministers would not delay the hammer blow any longer.

"Bring in the accused," the chief judge called out, just as he had done so the previous day. Again, Ludveck was brought into the chamber and roughly sat before the grand booth. The scribe hurriedly dipped his quill to prepare for the next exchange of words.

"So, is this the day that you will finally pronounce sentence on me?" Ludveck jested with a dry tone of voice, "Or will you humiliate yourselves by extending this mockery another day?"

"You will be silent," the judge shouted. "Your tongue was not abided by us yesterday, and it is not abided this day. Now, you will sign an oath pledging that you will answer quickly and honestly."

"Did I not already sign such a paper? I believe I did."

"It does not matter. We require you sign the vow again."

"I will not," the duke answered back, his voice now proud and resolute.

"You will sign it," the judge insisted.

"I have spoken, and I tell you, I will not sign anything. I have indulged you yesterday by putting my name on a paper that means nothing to either of us. I will not play your game again."

The scribe ceased his writing as the former-duke and the minister continued to exchange the same words back and forth. The lad looked about to see many of the spectators idly whispering to one another. Some looked altogether uninterested in the argument, which seemed to go on and on. Some appeared even to nod their heads in weariness, although the scribe could not tell if they were in fact falling asleep or merely feigning in order to make sport of what was happening. The scribe wondered if Ludveck hoped to test the patience of the justices, for he could detect a rising anger in the voice of the chief judge.

At length, the overseer yielded, and he proceeded with the questioning. The scribe quickly began to write.

"You have held your station for a fair count of years," he said. "How long have you held your former position as the sixth Duke of Felirae?"

"I have been the duke for five years; two years before the Mad King's War during the reign of King Ramon, one during the occupation, and two during the reign of our current queen."

"How did you come into your former position?"

"I inherited it, just as every other noble has."

"From whom did you inherit your lands and your title?"

"From my father upon his death in the year six forty-three, and I speak the truth in that instance. If you do not believe me, you may raid the burial vaults of my family if you wish to see for yourself."

"You say you served as duke during the occupation of Daein, did you not?"

"I did."

"How is it that you were permitted to keep your lands when many other nobles were supplanted and went into exile?"

"I did not see the need to go into hiding as so many of my peers did. They feared for their lives; I did not. And so I stayed in Felirae."

"Do you not find curious that the king of Daein did not remove you by force?"

"I do not."

"Why is that?"

"I have already told you; I didn't fear for my life. Ashnard was a man who respected strength, as I do. He must have seen a strength in me because he left the lands of Felirae untouched. And I would like to know what these questions have to do with my trial. Am I here for the invasion of Daein, or am I here for a charge of treason?"

"So, you confess to treason then?" the chief judge asked, and the scribe thought he could hear a trace of ill hope in his voice. It was as if he wished to make such a statement into an admission of wrongdoing. In all truth, the writer hoped for very much the same thing. It would surely mean a swift end for this trial and an equally-swift end for Ludveck as well. The scribe leaned forward, only slightly, in some strange expectation that the court would now give its ruling.

"I did not say I confessed," the duke replied slowly. "But that is what I am charged with, is it not?" The scribe fell back into his seat with a soured face and a soured thought. How he had hoped that this would now be the end of it. He was now certain that the accused man would make every attempt to prolong this affair, if only to taunt and torment those who had taken charge of him. Though he could not peer into his mind, the scribe was sure that Ludveck realized that he no longer had anything to lose.

"I see I have made mutes of all of you," the nobleman added with a haughty air. From where he sat, the scribe could see a smile of triumph upon his face at the silence of the judges.

"You speak as though our silence has granted you a verdict of innocent," the questioner answered. "Rest assured, Ludveck of Felirae, you have not won the argument."

"You seem sure of that."

"Justice will be served, and make no mistake of that. In reply to you, yes, it is a matter of treason that you are here today, among other reasons, but I am not obligated to give you any further answer."

"Perhaps not, but I would think that even a pawn of the queen such as yourself would have the wit to realize that all of these questions are hardly sufficient to prove that I am guilty."

"I beg to differ. We have taken great care to question you, if only to better determine your character. We have determined much concerning it, and thusly the likelihood that you are indeed guilty. We will have no more of this. In order to establish your guilt or your innocence in this matter, the laws of Crimea dictate that witnesses must be brought forward. By our order, several have arrived just today. Therefore, we shall dismiss until after midday in order to prepare them."

The scribe inwardly scowled when he heard the proclamation of the judges, but he thought it better that the trial should be delayed only for a matter of hours rather than an entire day. He was also quite curious at who the witnesses would be. He had thought earlier that morning that he had heard the sound of approaching hooves and iron-wrought wheels from his quarters. He also wondered how they had arrived so quickly, if by chance they came from Felirae. He put the thought of his mind, and when Ludveck was taken back to his cell, the tired legs of the scribe enjoyed the moment to rise and walk.

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Again, when the appointed time had come, the scribe took his place at his desk. It had surprised him when he had opened the doors and found Ludveck already seated before the judges, and as he passed their eyes, the scribe took the opportunity to look into the faces of the ministers. In particular, he looked at the chief justice.

He was an intimidating sight to the young writer. He did not know his name, though he had no need. The judge was a round-faced man with a stern expression and eyes that held the warmth and comfort of a blade. Though he was not seated before him, the scribe felt small under the gaze of the steely man as he walked to his place beside the booth. He wondered how even the daring rebel leader, for he knew every charge to be true, could not feel so little, as an ant was. He pondered if this was the conduct of a man who knew his fate and merely wanted to take whatever chance he could to raise anger in his accusers.

"Bring in the first witness," the chief justice ordered with a voice that seemed to shake the very room. The doors opened, and all eyes fell upon the person entering.

It was a woman dressed in the attire of a servant. The scribe could not recall seeing her face before, at least not among the fort staff. She walked slowly to the front of the room with light, silent steps, though her escorts took heavy, clanking strides. The woman was of average build. Her face appeared careworn, and from beneath her small cap, the scribe could spot several graying tresses. She did not regard Ludveck as she passed him, and she was stood before the judge's booth and turned to face the accused. The scribe looked upon her with pity, though he knew not why.

The two men who brought the woman took positions on either side of her, and the scribe could no longer see her.

"State your name for the court," the judge commanded.

"Ellia, Your Honor," the woman replied, rather demurely.

"What are your position and your relationship to the prisoner?"

"I am a maid in his household."

"That is a lie!" Ludveck shouted, prompting all who heard him to raise their heads in shock at such an outburst. "I have never seen this woman before, and I know every face who served me."

"Do not record that, scribe," the chief justice answered, paying no heed to the words of the duke, but he would not be so easily silenced.

"Oh, yes, now I see how justice is served in this case. You resort to liars in order to obtain your evidence. This is a travesty. This entire trial is a sham, and what's more you know it! Tell me this, did the queen order you to do this or was this your doing?"

"You will be silent, or I shall have your mouth bound for your insolence!" Silence fell over the chamber, though all who attended wondered how long it might endure. When the duke offered no further objection, the judge again began his questioning with the official tone the scribe knew well. "How long have you served this man?"

"Many years," she answered.

"Did you serve him during the occupation of Crimea by Daein?"

"I did."

"This man has claimed that he was permitted to retain control over the territory of Felirae during the Mad King's War. Is this true?"

"Yes, it is true."

"How was it that he was left alone when many other members of the nobility fled into exile?"

The maid did not give any answer for a time, as if she were unsure of what to say. The scribe wished he could see past the guard who stood beside her. He wondered what she might look like at this moment. He wondered why she gave such soft replies, as though she were shamed by every word.

"I suppose your little liar has forgotten the tale she was ordered to tell," Ludveck remarked.

The scribe thought he might be ordered to cross out those words, but instead, he heard an altogether different order.

"Strike him," the chief justice said. From where he sat, the scribe could see the other man at the side of the maid step forward. With the back of his hand, he roughly slapped the prisoner across the mouth before returning to his post. The duke spat a small trace of blood towards the judges' booth, though he could not wipe his mouth, for he was still bound. The scribe spotted a hateful sneer upon his face, and he found himself hoping that this witness would be the only one to step forward. The words of the judge again fell upon Ellia.

"He signed a treaty with Ashnard that allowed him to remain in his station."

"What were the terms of this treaty?"

"A yearly tribute of two-thousand pieces of gold and...provisions for the soldiers of Daein."

"What sorts of provisions?"

"I would rather not say, Your Honor."

"Did you ever lay eyes on this treaty?"

"I did. I found it while being forced to attend to one of the invaders. The duke was fond of having them visit his castle."

"Do you have the treaty with you?"

"No, it was destroyed sometime after Queen Elincia took the throne."

"And whom was it destroyed by?"

"That man," Ellia answered firmly. Though he could not see her, the scribe imagined her pointing a single finger at Ludveck. "He had the maids gather up any piece of wrongdoing and take them outside the castle at night. He then ordered us to return. I stayed behind, and I watched him set them all on fire."

"How would you describe the actions of the prisoner in this instance?"

"I would describe them as the actions of a man who would sell his own loyalty if he would gain from it."

"I see. Then tell us, would you think it likely that he would raise arms against his own monarch?"

"Yes," the maid replied, though the word sounded strange to the ears of the scribe. It seemed spoken too quickly, though he supposed it was due to the curious outburst of the man for whom her testimony was spoken against. He could still spy the scowl that had painted itself upon the duke's face. With that last answer, the scribe was certain that judgment would surely be heard today. And when they had dismissed Ellia, he sat back awaiting the end of the matter.

"What say you to that?" came the voice from the judges' booth. "How do you answer that charge made against you?"

"I have said it already," came the reply of Ludveck. "You asked me such a question yesterday, and I said it did not matter how I answer. You will think me a liar, and while we are on the subject, you have used a liar to bring evidence against me. I have never seen that woman, nor did I ever sign a treaty with Ashnard. I have certainly never made provisions for Daein as she claimed. As for my loyalties, you may even ask the queen of that. Did I not fight for her when she reclaimed Crimea?"

"Is that your say?"

"It is hardly enough, but I don't imagine you will grant me the right to say more."

"Bring in the next witness," the chief judge commanded not a moment later.

The guards soon brought in a man. The scribe noticed that he was a soldier, or at the very least, he looked like one. He wore the silver armor of both the royal army and the rebels, and it appeared to be in a state of disrepair. The breastplate sported many indents and was in dire need of cleaning. By the chains on his wrists, the scribe supposed that he was a captured rebel who would no doubt soon stand for his own trial. He appeared frightened, yet also assured in some strange contradiction. Did he think that perhaps the queen's ministers would look in favor upon him should he bring evidence against his lord? Did he, like his master, believe that he had nothing left in life to lose, and so he cared not? The scribe pondered this as he was brought before the judges.

"State your name."

"Harris," the soldier answered.

"Do you know the prisoner?"

"I do."

"How do you know him?"

The questioned man did not answer at first, and the scribe saw him look towards him, but not at him. Instead, his eyes closed and his face turned towards the floor. "I fought for him," Harris responded at length.

A slight murmuring sounded just then from the spectators. They seemed to talk among themselves, though not a word could be discerned from them.

"Hang them both," a man shouted out.

"Aye, let's be rid of them," another man shouted in assent.

Calls for death began to rise up among all those assembled, and the chief judge began to speak loudly in order to silence them, but it seemed that they would not be silenced. Though just as the gale of voices blew hard, a quieting breeze seemed to follow. The scribe spotted a child, likely near his own age, pulling on the arm of a man, and the man took his seat. Soon, others followed, until order again fell over the chamber, after which the judges again petitioned for testimony.

"Did you know of the planned rebellion?"

"I did," Harris replied. "I was there when he and several other noblemen met together. I was sworn to secrecy under pain of death for both myself and my family."

"What was discussed during these meetings?"

"Who should take the place of Elincia on the throne, although my lord had already determined that it would be him. The other nobles met to sign a pact that would pledge their armies to him and to name him as the new king."

"Did you see this pact?"

"No, but I saw them sign it, first Ludveck, and then his supporters. The pact was kept in a secret location on the castle grounds, along with anything else that might reflect poorly on my former lord; he saw to that personally. Anything that could implicate him, he hid."

"He did not destroy this pact, as he did other pieces of evidence?"

"I never knew him to destroy anything if he thought he had use for it."

The scribe felt his neck tighten at those words, for mere moments ago, Ellia had told that any such things were destroyed. He began to wonder if the prisoner had spoken truly, and if he had, what might that say of the men who had gathered the witnesses. His thoughts on the matter did not find their way to conclusion, as the questioning continued.

"Did you know where this secret location was?"

"I did not, and so I can't say anything else. I did hear from one of my fellows that the pact was taken by Lady Lucia herself."

"That is not at all relevant to this trial, but concerning the lady, did you participate in the battle at Fort Alpea?"

"I did, Your Honor."

"Did your former lord take any prisoners?"

"Only the lady herself was among us."

"What were your orders in regard to her?" When he did not answer outright, the court began to impose upon him their will for him to do so, and at length, he gave way.

"We were ordered to kill her if the battle should go against us. However, if my lord were to fall in battle, he gave us orders to release her. However, another of our superiors revoked the command with new orders that he claimed were from my lord's own mouth."

"We are not here to determine the guilt of any other man. We are here only to determine the guilt of one. Therefore, you shall refrain from mentioning others," the chief justice bade, and the scribe thought he sounded quite agitated. When the questions came again, however, his voice was quite composed as it had been the day before and most of this one. "How would you find your former lord regarding the charge of dishonorable conduct against his station?"

"I would say that he has indeed acted so," Harris replied.

"How has he done so?"

"For one thing, it was the company my lord was prone to keep. In the weeks before the uprising, he kept the company of the most unsavory men Crimea had birthed. He gave some of them high places of leadership in his army, not because of their merit, but because he found them kindred spirits in several ways. He kept the company of murderers, schemers, and worse sorts, and one of which became the highest-ranking official in his army. If that is not dishonorable enough, then the taking of women would surely be more than enough."

"That will do," the chief justice said. "Guards, take the witness to the dungeons until he may stand trial as well. As for you, Harris, your words will not be discounted, and you may yet have nothing to fear." When the soldier had been led away, Ludveck was again asked, "What say you to that?"

And when he did not answer, more witnesses were brought forward. Some spoke one thing, and some spoke another. Some spoke what was certainly true, and some spoke what was perhaps untrue, for the fact that certain words did not agree with others. This even the scribe could tell, and he was not considered wise. Still, he wrote what was said, and struck was he was bidden to, as many more gave their evidence against the duke of Felirae.

When the last witness was taken from the chamber, the scribe looked out the window at the winter sky. The burning sun was veiled, but he could tell the day was waning quickly. He wondered if the judges would end the proceedings of this day, and he hoped that they would. His hand pained him from its constant task. His belly growled against its empty state, and his back and legs ached in protest at having remained still for so long. Would this day bring the awaited passing of judgment? The scribe hoped so, and he was certain many of those present did as well, especially those who had brought their children so that they might observe the trial.

"Shall you give any answer to these charges made against you?" the chief justice asked the prisoner. The toils of the day had likewise wearied him as well, for his voice, once calm and composed, was again becoming irate. "We have heard from many, and you have had little reply to any of them. Surely you must have some thought as to the validity of their testimony."

"You wish to hear my thoughts on what you've brought against me?" Ludveck asked with an insincere tone. When the answer came as 'yes', he smiled, and it was not a smile the scribe cared to look upon or recall. "Earlier, I called this entire affair a sham, and I think it is very much so. Are you men so weak that you cannot even judge what you already know? No, you have to assemble a witless band to testify against me, just so you can say you brought evidence. What's more, most of them could not even agree, but you let them speak. You should not need to have any witnesses at all; either condemn me on what you know or do not bother and release me."

"The laws of Crimea must prevail," replied the chief judge. "We must establish your innocence or guilt based on the words of others. We have done this fairly, according to the protocols of our stations."

Ludveck laughed.

"You should be standing down here with me, because you are no better than I. Allow me to try you; prove to me that not a single word I have spoken is true, and I will relent. Bring one man from this very room forward to speak for or against me, and I shall be satisfied."

The scribe sighed as the judges began to talk among themselves. He hoped that they would not honor his request, or if they did, that they would not do so this evening. He looked down at the many words that he had recorded, and at once, found himself wearied with only the thought of his bed to comfort him. It was a pleasure that he would now gladly take, over even the meal, but it was not one that would yet be his.

"Very well," the chief justice said. Turning his voice towards the onlookers, he continued. "Who among you shall give testimony concerning this man? Who among you will speak?" The words had scarcely left his mouth when a woman stood to her feet.

"I will!" she declared. She was beckoned to come forward, and she did so. She was a rather heavyset woman, the scribe noticed, and he could take no other note of her. She was not asked for her name; rather she was asked if she wished to speak in favor of Ludveck or if she wished to speak against him. "I will speak against him," said she.

"You may begin when you are ready," came the answer of the court.

"I saw the battle of Fort Alpea with my own eyes. I saw that man leading his army into the gates, and I saw only his men leave. I saw, like everyone else in this room, his men drag Lady Lucia to the gallows, pull her up to the platform, and put the noose around her neck, all on his orders. They said it plainly that they intended to kill her, just as that man Harris did. They said that he told them to do it. Is that not enough for you? I do agree with that man on one thing; let this be done here and now. Take him to the gallows and pull him off his feet, just as his men did to an innocent woman!"

At those words, her fellow citizens cheered and raised their fists in assent. The court called again for order, and the woman was told to return to her place. She had not sat for long when the chief judge spoke again.

"We have no need for further witnesses. However, the day is nearly over. We shall dismiss and convene tomorrow in order to deliver our judgment. Guards, return the prisoner to his cell. The rest of you may go."

The scribe sorely rose and went to fill his belly and then lay himself down in his bed. He was glad to now know that it would soon be over, and he had no doubt at the decision of the court. Yet a strange thought lingered in his mind before it, too, drifted off to sleep.

He had heard the words of false witnesses among the true, and this he was certain of. He had heard the accusation brought against the court by Ludveck himself, and he pondered if perhaps the duke had spoken more rightly than any of those who had come forward against him. The scribe knew the man had done wrongly, yet he wondered if the court had done an equal wrong. If it had, then did it render the court itself an injustice? The scribe did not know, but sleep soon claimed his body and his thoughts.

* * *

**A/N: **I bet that really brings some interesting twists into it. When I began this chapter, I knew I wanted to have Ludveck call the first witness a liar. Obviously, I wasn't going to go through each and every piece of testimony, but I just wanted to pose the question of whether or not the witness is lying or telling the truth or even if Ludveck himself is lying or telling the truth. I took a lot of inspiration from some of the famous show trials as they were, except in this case, we have someone who really is guilty.

Some of the testimony was included as something of a nod to _The Twin Blades_ as well.

Anyway, looks like judgment day is coming soon. And don't worry. It won't take as long as it did to post this. Hope you enjoyed it.


	3. Chapter 3: Judgment

**A/N: **Told you it wouldn't take long. After I had finished the second, I just had the urge to go on, so I pushed ahead. Besides, I figured this wouldn't have taken very long either. I had originally intended to post this after I got a bit farther ahead in _The Twin Blades_ just because some of this references that story and will be a setting for later. But we're a long way off from that spot, so I figurd I'd just go ahead.

Anyway, here is the third and final chapter of this story. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Judgment**

For the third day, the scribe took his place at his humble desk, although today he felt a greater pride to sit at his place than in the grand booth where the queen's ministers of justice had sat. He had little thought as to why it seemed better. Perhaps it was because he was only to record the words that had been spoken these past days. He had awoken that day with the notion that it was better to record the words of deceit rather than order that they be given. The realization that the judges had done such a thing left a bitter taste in the scribe's mouth.

While Ludveck would surely receive his due reward, the scribe wondered if the road to that reward was one that the judges should have taken. He had eaten and entered the chamber no longer as a boy, but as a young man who had seen the true face of justice in a case such as this and was now wiser for it but not at all pleased. So, he thought that it held a higher honor to merely put the words in ink rather than speak them or order them to be spoken. He was now sure of it.

Aside from pride, the scribe also felt a great relief at the promise of a verdict. He had awaited this day since the first, and he was certain his fellows had as well. He saw the crowd of onlookers had swelled, no doubt from the word of those who had attended previously. Like a small amount of yeast in a baker's dough, the promise of judgment had worked its way through the citizenry. The seats were filled until they could abide no more, and the rest had stood alongside them until they seemed to fade into one another. As they jostled and pushed for room, the scribe thought they resembled the rolling of a rippling lake. He could not discern a single face from among them.

The scribe looked at the empty chair and awaited its filling, for it would surely be the last time the accused man would sit in it. For the time of foolish questions and witnesses, both false and true, would soon end. The scribe began to fidget in his chair. Would it begin soon? Would the judges at last bring an end to this pointless event? He hoped to know soon.

"Bring in the accused," the chief justice commanded. The scribe felt his back stiffen at the command, for it was now the beginning of the end for Ludveck; of that he was sure. The duke was brought forward, bound as he had always been, and roughly sat in the chair before the grand booth. The scribe hurriedly dipped his quill to begin his last recording.

"Ludveck of Felirae," the judge began, "you once again stand accused of high treason, sedition, inciting rebellion against your lawful queen, dishonorable conduct against your station, unlawful conduct against the laws of Crimea, and the abduction and attempted murder of a lady of the court. You will soon be judged for each of these. Have you any final words to give the court before judgment is to be made?"

"What words would I give to you?" the former-duke answered with a venomous sneer.

"Is that your say?" the judged replied back quickly.

"I did not say that."

"Then speak, and be quick about it."

The scribe saw the prisoner take a breath as if he were about to deliver a lengthy speech, such as one a king would give when he stood before his people. When he spoke, the haughtiness in his eyes traveled to his tongue.

"Do you call yourself justices, and do you call this a trial? You have had your verdict since the first day, and yet you failed to give it. No, instead of judging me, you decided to appeal to some foolish sense of self-righteousness. And so you tried me, if these proceedings could even be called a trial. Or was it the queen's own self-righteousness that caused you to do this? In any case, you were so eager to satisfy your own consciences by trying me that you decided to act against your own supposed morals. I could swear on the grave of my father and his father before him that half of those witnesses were liars, and yet you admitted them. But because it would only prolong this charade, you chose to ignore the truth, and you still ignore it. As I said yesterday, this entire matter is a travesty!"

"Will you now be silent?"

"I will not. You asked for my say, and now when you realize that I have spoken rightly, you try to quiet me. If you wish to try me, then do so. But do not sit there under the belief that you are more moral than I. You are no different from me, but you are too afraid to see it. So condemn me if you wish, but do not think that you keep justice in this land."

The scribe heard a low muttering among the judges, and he wondered what they might be saying to each other. Were they weighing the truth of Ludveck's word? Were they merely thinking of how to avenge their pride upon him? He could not say.

"We shall depart in order to discuss the verdict," the chief judge said at last. "Do not dismiss the court, for we shall return quickly." At those words, the booth emptied, and the scribe watched as the six ministers walked one-by-one out of the chamber. They seemed to take slow steps, though the scribe was not certain if they lingered or if they merely seemed to do so.

When the last judge had gone and the doors of the room were shut, the people began to talk among themselves. Most spoke with quiet voices, but some dared to speak out and shout to the prisoner.

"Now, you'll get a noose around your neck," one man said.

"I wonder if they'll give you a hood or if we'll get to watch it all," said another in poor humor.

"I hope they hang you twice," shouted a third. Others merely called him 'traitor.'

Time seemed to linger as the air filled with hateful words. The hours seemed to slow in passing as the scribe eagerly awaited the return of the judges. Had they been gone a minute? Had it been five or ten? Had it been an entire mark since they left? The scribe was not certain. The past two days seemed so quick. The scribe had, at first, found them to stretch on, but now, they seemed to have gone as the blink of an eye. This day, with the ending so near, it seemed as many days to the scribe.

His hands swept over each other. His feet shuffled in place, and each word he heard from the spectators seemed slower than the last. Would they not return? Would they not reach a judgment?

At last, the doors opened and each of the justices filed slowly back into the room. They seemed to slow in their steps again as they walked to their places. They seemed as snails to the scribe, and he was certain they were so in the eyes of the people. When they had all taken their seats, the chief justice called out.

"We have deliberated, and we have made our rulings. My fellows, for the crime of high treason, how does the court find the prisoner?"

"Guilty," said one judge.

"Guilty," another added.

"Guilty," declared the third.

"Guilty," the fourth announced.

"Guilty," the fifth said.

"For the crime of sedition, how does the court find the prisoner?"

Again, the voices of the other judges rang out to declare his guilt.

"For the crime of inciting rebellion against the lawful queen of the land, how does the court find the prisoner?"

Once again, each man gave a judgment of guilt against the former-duke. Three times more, the chief judge asked of each charge, and three times more the chorus of 'guilty' sounded through the chamber. As the scribe penned each glaring word, he felt a strange sense of relief for it was mingled with dissatisfaction. It was the verdict he had hoped for, and he took no pleasure in hearing its proclamation. As the last judge gave the last word, the chamber thundered with applause from the spectators.

"Order," the chief justice shouted over the din. "Order," he repeated, until the a silence that seemed deathly fell over the room. The scribe kept his eye upon the prisoner. Ludveck seemed unmoved by the sealing of his fate, and it seemed strange to the scribe that he should show no fear or dread as most men who heard such a ruling would. The scribe wondered if he had always expected this outcome or if he wished only to conduct himself as a man of noble birth even for a few moments longer.

"Ludveck of Felirae," the chief judge began, "you have been tried and found guilty of all crimes of which you stand accused. Though a few of these charges would put you in prison, the nature under which you have committed them and the more serious of offenses will not. According to the laws and traditions of the nation of Crimea, I hereby pronounce a sentence of death upon you."

At his word, the room again burst forth into loud cheers and applause, now louder than they had previously been. Where they could find room, the scribe noticed people dancing about in glee at the sentence given. The judge immediately called for order, but they seemed not to hear him. When he shouted again, they did not heed him. At last, with as much effort as he could muster, the chief justice shouted out, "Silence!" The word sounded loudly throughout the chamber, and the people became meek and somber as they heard it. The scribe leaned himself back in his seat, readying himself to record the time at which the duke's sentence would be carried out. He almost thought to himself that he could simply write that the execution would take place at dawn the following day.

"However," the judge said, sounding rather throaty, "owing to the mercy of Her Majesty, Queen Elincia Ridell Crimea, your sentence has been deferred for reasons known only to her and shall be carried out at her discretion. Therefore, you shall be committed to the jailer of Azrubel Prison until such time is seen fit." The scribe let his mouth fall open at the decision given. To him, the idea that the queen should hold him while war with Begnion tore through the country was hardly wise, and he imagined that the people who had gathered here were of the same mind. Though he understood little of such matters, the scribe wondered what reason the queen should have to spare the man who had sought to remove her.

And as Ludveck was taken back to his cell and the judges left, the scribe watched as the observers slowly departed to return to their homes. They seemed quiet as they walked with dissatisfied steps, for they had surely come only to return at daybreak. When the last of them had gone, the scribe let his eyes fall upon the empty chair in which the prisoner had sat. He knew not why he gazed upon it, although he still found himself reflecting on the rightness of the judgment given. Would this trial be recalled as one like so many others, where justice came swiftly and rightly or would it linger on as a mockery of justice Ludveck had declared? He could not tell, but he found that he could no longer sit alone.

* * *

Later in the day, the scribe slipped from his room and crept out the back gate of the fort. When he stood outside Alpea's walls, he broke into a run towards the front gate. Hiding himself, he heard the doors of the fort creak open as a black carriage appeared outside. The driver urged the horses slightly forward, until he bade them to halt. The winter air chilled the scribe, for he had hurried to watch this and had left behind his cloak. He rubbed his hands and breathed into his palms, hoping to restore their lost warmth. He kept his eyes upon the gate, until he felt his feet numbing within his shoes. He thought to leave, and yet, he felt oddly compelled to watch.

At last, two guards emerged from the gate with Ludveck bound between them. They stopped at the carriage, and released him only long enough to force him inside before they entered with him. When the door was shut, the driver flicked the reins and the carriage rolled away from Alpea, and soon it was out of sight.

The scribe ventured back inside. It was over now, and he would soon return to his own village. He would spend a day or two more at the fort before then, but he was glad to know that he would be going home. For while he lived within the shadows of Alpea, he was certain that he would not soon forget the days of late and the man who had been tried. Even now, he could imagine that black carriage bearing Ludveck to the gates of Azrubel, and the man himself sitting in one of its stone pits awaiting the day of his death. How the scribe wished he could blot the words he had written from his mind, for though he had looked with favor upon this day, he came to find that it offered nothing for him.

"It is over," he said to himself that night as he laid himself down in his bed, hoping the thoughts of home would overtake his sleep. "It is over."

* * *

**A/N: **First off, let me say I wasn't happy with the ending. I mean I always wanted it to end with the scribe watching Ludveck be carted off to prison. On that note, I plan on describing Azrubel Prison in greater detail in _The Twin Blades_. I had originally intended on writing a fourth chapter, nothing big, but I decided that it might be best to end it here. I might change my mind though. We'll see.

I want to thank all of you who've read and reviewed this story. It means a lot to me to know you've enjoyed this, even if it did just start out as a half-baked idea. A big thanks goes to HaveAHeart0301 who beta'ed this story and several others of mine as well.


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